


Just give me your hand (Tabhair dom do lámh)

by cigarettesandalcohol



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: 20th Century, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Bullying, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotionally Repressed, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Heavy Drinking, Historical, Ireland, Loyalty, M/M, Not Happy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-World War I, it is kinda cliché-like, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:53:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25627003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cigarettesandalcohol/pseuds/cigarettesandalcohol
Summary: Gary Neville, a soldier haunted by his own trauma from the war, comes looking for his brother who went missing during a night patrol in Cork. Worried and anxious, he searches for him on his own, and in the process, he encounters a rebel Corkman who's desperate to find his place in the world.
Relationships: David Beckham/Gary Neville (past), David Beckham/Victoria Adams Beckham (mentioned in the past), Roy Keane/Gary Neville
Kudos: 4





	Just give me your hand (Tabhair dom do lámh)

**Author's Note:**

> History AU! It was needed very much!  
> The title is taken from the Irish song "Give me your hand".

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Gary felt his heart drop. He instinctively put his hands up, forgetting all he's been taught in the past six years. " _Please don't shoot_."

This was different than training with fake guns and dummies, knowing that all the other participants are mates, friends, and members of the same group. Now he was standing in a dark room and a voice behind his back spoke with an undeniably Cork accent. " _Please don't shoot_ ," he said again. His hands were shaking and he could almost _feel_ the bullet that was inevitably coming to kill him from behind. For a moment, he thought about the image - would he be shot in the back? Or in the head? Would his brain splatter over the wall? Would he feel it? Would he hear it coming? Did David feel - 

" _Please_."

"Turn around - " The weight fell off Gary's shoulders, just to reappear immediately. "- I don't shoot people in the back."

" _Please_ ," he whimpered again. He wouldn't do this, he surely wouldn't, if it was in a battle, or in a melee, or in an equal fight - he wouldn't beg and cry, he would accept it - just not now. Not when he was on his own, without informing his unit, not when his mission was more important than anything ordered could ever be. Not when he wasn't sure whether Philip is safe. " _Please_."

"Turn around."

The accent was making it all worse. There was so much scorn and contempt in those two words, and Gary felt humiliated just by having to listen to it.

" _Please_ ," he whispered, making moves as slow as possible. " _Please._ I don't have a gun." That was a lie, although, in a way, it was _true_ \- he w _asn't holding a gun_ in his hand. He had it, though, by his belt. He was sure that before he would reach it, he would be shot dead.

"Shut the fuck up."

The stranger's voice was strangely high-pitched. Gary couldn't decide whether looking at him would help, so he kept his head down, staring at the darkened room's floor tiles. 

"Are you deaf? Turn around!"

He could feel his fingers trembling. He didn't want to die, not just yet - he couldn't afford to die now, without knowing what happened to his brother. He felt like a single word or even a slight motion could be his ticket to an afterlife.

Then there was a bright stream of light, shining straight into his face, and he closed his eyes, feeling blinded by the light anyway.

"What the fuck are you? A fucking baby?"

He shook his head in the least obvious sign of defiance. 

"Open your eyes!"

He listened to the commands of the Irishman once again, squinting and trying to get used to the blinding glow. He slowly got used to it, black spinning spots changing into real shapes and objects in front of him, and as he's gotten used to the light, he could tell the edges of the objects, and the details of the person standing there.

He wasn't very tall, that was the first thing Gary's noticed - he was quite short, actually, holding a gun in his hand.

His eyes were just as frightened as his own must have been.


End file.
